Friday night March 29, 2019, Rachel vs the Guillotine
In the next room down the hall, Minos, the man who’d arranged for Rachel to experience her darkly masochistic guillotine fantasy lit up a cigarette. He’d thoroughly enjoyed watched Rachel die under the guillotine’s razor-sharp blade.
Smiling he turned to one of his assistants, “OK, let’s get that guillotine disassembled and packed up. I want Rachel’s head and body on ice and ready for shipment a.s.a.p. the transport plane will be landing at the airport in sixty seven minutes.
Watching on the camera displays as two of the Resort’s regeneration technicians wheeled the cart carrying the cryogenic storage container into the execution chamber and readied Rachel’s remains for shipment, he had to admit, that while he considered ‘Rachel on the Rails’ her best performance, the darkly autoerotic nature of ‘Rachel vs the Guillotine’ would have a certain appeal to many in his loyal audience.
As for Rachel, she’d wake up Sunday morning safely back in her own bed, her deadly guillotine fantasy seemingly just another darkly erotic dream. And with her memories of their most-recent conversation erased from her memories, he was already looking forward to their next conversation and her next starring role in one of his snuff productions.
It was in that moment that the web production manager rushed into the control room. Sir, you need to see these numbers.
Taking the tablet, Minos quickly scrolled through the viewership numbers for Rachel’s guillotine fantasy, the look of disappointment growing on his face, “Well, it appears that Rachel will not be waking up in her own bed. Everyone let's finish packing up, so we can all get back to the Resort...”
Saturday afternoon March 30 2019, Resort Regeneration Chamber 42
Floating unconscious within the regeneration tank’s green glowing fluid, Rachel’s regeneration was nearing its completion. Surprised by the last-minute changes to Rachel’s regeneration process, the technician monitoring her progress checked Rachel’s regeneration history, her first thought, this should prove to be interesting...
Sunday night March 31 2019, at one of the Resort’s exclusive Vacation Club dungeons
I awoke to find I wasn’t in my bed, instead I was standing alone within a strange room, one I’d never seen before, lit by large fire stands filled with burning coals, with my wrists secured to the ends of an overhead metal bar. Oh, and I was almost completely naked, wearing only stockings and high heels. Then I noticed the oddest thing. My breasts seemed much larger and firmer than normal. Oh, and I also didn’t recall having pierced nipples.
“Hello? Can anybody hear me?”
“Please, can someone help me?”
“Please, why am I here?”
Except for the steady crackle of burning wood, my desperate pleas went unanswered.
In desperation, I tugged against my restraints but the snug-fitting manacles were unyielding. It was in that moment that I heard footsteps approaching through the darkness beyond the firelight. I watched helplessly as a stranger walked into the light, and ominously he was carrying a very sharp-looking sword.
Reaching where I was standing he stopped, the blade of his sword poised just inches from my belly, and smiled, “Good evening Rachel and welcome to the Resort.”
Confused I replied, “The Resort? Wait, isn’t that a BDSM themed resort located on a private island somewhere in the Bahamas? I guess that explains the restraints, but why that sword and just who the hell are you?”
Seeing the growing look of confusion in Rachel’s eyes, “Sorry, how remiss of me. Rachel, execute phase one.”
I felt a moment of dizziness and then I suddenly knew his name, “Your name is Minos, didn’t we meet in a bar last December? But why can’t I remember our conversation?”
A look of seriousness appeared on his face as Minos explained, “Actually Rachel, we’ve conversed several times over the last few months, mostly through emails which we were careful to fully erase from your computer.”
Even more confused, “We did? What were we talking about?”
“Mostly you described, in intimate deal, your darkest fantasies. Two of which I brought to life so that you could actually experience them.”
Not quite willing to believe what she was hearing, “How was that possible and why don’t I remember any of it?”
“After you lived out your darkest fantasy, we carefully edited your memories so that when you awoke, safely in your own bed, you’d believe your experience was nothing more than a vivid dream. However, after your second fantasy, the cost of your repeated regenerations was outpacing the revenue we were making from the snuff films of your willing deaths, so this time you awoke here at the Resort where you’re going to become an ‘Indentured Resort Companion’.”
Confused and feeling a little overwhelmed, “’Regeneration’, ‘Indentured’?”
Smiling at Rachel’s look of confusion, “Rachel, execute phase two.”
After a second moment of dizziness, Rachel felt sudden chilling sensation of horror grip her heart, “Oh, my God. Oh, my God! How is this even possible? The first time it was at night, I was lying bound between the railroad tracks with my neck resting across one of the rails, and a speeding trail decapitated me. Wait, you were the one who tied me to the tracks that night! The second time you were the one who provided me with that fully automatic guillotine, the sensation of the razor-sharp blade decapitating me is so vivid it seems like it only happened yesterday.”
Grinning Minos casually corrected Rachel, “Rachel, you didn’t die on the guillotine yesterday, it was actually the day before that.”
Feeling totally confused, “But I remember dying, twice! How is any of this even possible?”
Pausing to glance down at the sword in Minos’s hand, “And why do I somehow know that sword you’re holding is a seventeenth-century Scottish Claymore?”
Minos chuckled, “Here at the Resort. We like all of our Vacation Club Companions to be well educated, able to interact with our valued Vacation Club members on an equal intellectual level. Vacation Club members are by definition those whose wealth can buy them almost anything. The Resort provides the rest. If a member wants to spend the evening torturing, and often to the death, a beautiful woman, we’ll match them up with either a willing masochistic Vacation Club member or one of your Resort companions.
Sensing the sudden look of perplexed understanding in Rachel’s eyes, Minos continued, “Of course, like with everything in life, there’s a down side, our more sadistic Vacation Club members expect our Companions to be utterly submissive masochists willing to give their lives for our member’s amusement. They just don’t want them to be too enthusiastic about it. They mostly desire terrified damsels in distress, not hard-core masochistic pain sluts, so we use the regeneration process too mentally and physically alter our companions to provide exactly what our member’s desire.”
“Well I guess that explains the firmer enlarged breasts and pierced nipples. Hey, you also mention mental conditioning! What else have you done to me?”
Smiling, Minos said, “Rachel, execute phase three.”
Rachel could see the smile upon his face darkening at the sudden look of horrified understanding in Rachel’s eyes. “Minos, what have you done to me! This is impossible, that sword you’re holding, the very thought of you running me through with it is terrifying and yet erotically stimulating at the same time. I fear the pain as much as I crave it. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I'm eagerly looking forward to dying with that blade in my guts.”
Giving Rachel a knowing smile, Minos ran her through with his sword.
Monday afternoon April 1, 2019, Resort Regeneration Chamber 12
I awoke in the regeneration center’s recovery area, the horrifying sensation of the sword sliding through my guts still fresh in my mind. The sounds of my desperate screams of agony echoing off the dungeon walls as Minos savagely twisted that blade back and forth inside me, viciously ripping my insides apart as I died for him. I think it was one of the darkest, most erotic moments of my life.
Later that afternoon I met with a representative from the Resort’s human resources department, and yes, even the Resort has an HR department.
Smiling over the stack of papers waiting on his desk, “Rachel, welcome to the Resort, I’m Mark. I know that becoming an indentured companion was likely the last thing you expected but trust me when I say it does come with a few very nice perks.”
Frowning I replied, “Like being enslaved? Not to mention messing with my body and mind?”
“Indentured Rachel not enslaved. Contractually, you’re an indentured companion at the Resort for a period of ten years, at the end of which time you have the option of either leaving the Resort or agreeing to sign up as a regular Resort companion. As an indentured companion you will be provide with a private Resort villa within one of the gated employee communities on the island. Your annual salary is one million dollars a year for the duration of your ten year contract, with all your needs provided freely by the Resort.”
Shocked I responded, “A Resort companion gets paid a million dollars a year?”
Amused Mark replied, “Actually one million is the annual salary for indentured companions. A regular companion earns an annual salary of twenty million a year.”
Dumfounded, I asked, “Ten million dollars in exchange for unwillingly giving The Resort ten years of my life that I’ll never get back. Every day of it spent suffering and dying within the Resort’s dungeons?”
“Actually Rachel, your indentured contract stipulates a six-day work week, which includes both your time spent entertaining our Vacation Club guests as well as the time spent recovering in regeneration. And, as for the ten years of your life that you believe you’ll never get back. You are quite mistaken. On Monday December 31, 2018, the day after your delightfully gruesome train incident, you underwent your first regeneration, as part of that process the system scanned your body and re-sequenced your DNA to correct for any genetic errors the scan detected. From then on, anytime you undergo the regeneration the process resets your chronological age back to December 31, 2018. In other words, as long as you remain in the employ of the Resort, you do not age.”
Leaning back in my seat in awe as the life-changing implications of the Resort’s regeneration process stared to sink in, “Incredible, totally incredible.”
Pausing for a moment as I recalled something Minos had mentioned last night, “So what exactly is the Resort’s Vacation Club?”
Tuesday night April 2, 2019, a Vacation Club torture chamber high in the Resort’s North Tower
I watched in growing fear, as a man who believes, he is the reincarnation of a 17th century Italian Baron, a man known as the Crimson Executioner, a madman that brutally murdered hundreds of prostitute and other openly promiscuous women before being brought to justice, smiled as he picked up that pear of anguish.
A renowned historian, one who’s extensively researched and published multiple papers concerning the art of medieval torture and execution, who also happens to be one of the most diabolically sadistic members of the Resort’s Vacation Club, the Crimson Executioner. Turns out he also has a standing request with the Resort’s concierge desk, while he’s at the Resort he gets the first guest session with any new companions.
I guess it’s fortunate, that I was already dressed as he requested and helplessly shackled to this bondage restraint before the attendant bothered to explain the gruesome details of the Crimson Executioner’s new companion initiation ritual.
“He started the evening by inserting the pear of anguish into my vagina, slowly expanding its iron petals, stretching the walls of my vagina until they were torn apart. After destroying my vagina, he pushed dozens of sharp, red-hot, iron skewers through my breasts and corset compressed abdomen. When he finally grew tired of sticking skewers into me, he used those large red-hot irons already heating in the brazier’s burning coals, to destroy my nipples, cliterous and labia. Then, moving on he spent a gruesome hour or so, using a heavy iron mallet to shatter all the bones in my extremities. He started with my fingers and moving inward until he’d shattered both my shoulders, before moving down. He removed my high heels and resumed by smashing my toes, moving upward until he finally finished by smashing my hip sockets.”
“As distressing the intimate details of my agonizing mutilation sounded, there’s one thing even disturbing, of the hundreds of companions he’s done this to. They all were alive and conscious to experience his ritual’s grand finale. Taking one of the freshly reheated irons off the coals, he pushed its hot glowing tip deep into my rectum, then using his heavy iron mallet he drove that iron upward into my guts. As I understand it, a few of his luckier victims actually died before he finished pounding the full length of that red-hot iron into their guts. Sadly, most of his victims aren’t that lucky. They all seem to survive for about an hour or so afterward.”
“Unfortunately, as it turned out, I somehow managed to survive past the end of his grand finale by just over an hour...”
Wednesday afternoon April 3, 2019, Resort Regeneration Chamber 107
It was late afternoon the following day before Rachel’s regeneration was finally nearing completion, the brutal attentions of the Crimson Executioner, as usual, requiring far more extensive regeneration than most usually required.
I awoke once again within the regeneration center’s recovery area, that unforgettably sickening sensation of red-hot iron burning deep within me seared into my mind, an experience far beyond any of my darkest masochistic nightmares. And yet, still lying on one of the recovery area's beds, I found myself already looking forward to spending my next delightfully agonizing session within one of the Resort’s dungeons and torture chambers...
Tuesday evening June 11, 2019, on the patio of Rachel’s private villa
Today is my day off from the torturous pleasures of the dungeon. I decided to enjoy a glass of wine while waiting for my dinner guest Traci to arrive from regen and decided to take a moment to update my companion’s journal. “Computer, open a new entry in my journal. Begin recording.”
“Well, it’s been two and a half months since I first awoke to discover that I’d become an indentured companion here at the Resort. In that time I’ve endured some horrifically torturous deaths, obscenely painful experiences beyond anything I could ever have imagined. Along the way, I’ve also learned quite a bit of the Resort’s history.”
“Originally founded in the early 1980’s as a BDSM themed vacation destination situated on a privately owned Caribbean island. However, it wasn’t until 1989, when a defecting Soviet scientist sold the Resort the newly discovered regeneration process that the Resort’s secret Vacation Club came into being.”
“Appealing to the rich and sadistic, the Vacation Club hides in plain sight behind the facade of the Resort’s public advertised BDSM themed vacation destination, and while a stay at the Resort’s publicly accessible attractions is fairly expense, membership within the Vacation Club costs two hundred million dollars, with an annual maintenance fee of ten million. Membership also requires that each member undergoes mental conditioning that makes it impossible to reveal details about the Vacation Club or even to admit to its existence.”
“The Vacation Club was founded to provide their members with the opportunity to live out their darkest sadistic desires, supplying them with beautiful companions, women willing to be tortured to death for their amusement within the Resort’s exclusive Vacation Club only dungeons and torture chambers.”
“With membership also comes access to services that are simply unavailable outside the Vacation Club. The first and most compelling of these is access to the Resort’s regeneration facilities with their promise of youth and near immortality, along with access to Resort’s secure banking and investment management, as well as the ability to purchase private island villas.”
“One of the ironies I discovered about the Vacation Club members, while the club was originally created to appeal to the darkly sadistic, today more than half of its members are either switch or full time submissive masochists. So much so that the management had to begin hiring not only companions but also began recruiting a staff of full time torturers in the early 90’s. Seriously, who knew?”
“Computer, end recording and save journal entry as both video and searchable text.”
Monday night June 17, 2019, in one of the Resort’s Vacation Club dungeons
Tonight, started out a little different than most evenings here at the Resort. I know that one of the things the Resort’s mental conditioning suppresses is any sense of modesty. I’m comfortable being the scantily-clad damsel in distress but tonight was the first time I was entering one of the Resort’s dungeons completely nude and barefoot. And tonight, I already had my wrists tightly tied behind my back before I entered the dungeon.
As it turns out, tonight I would also endure a deadly peril I’d never experienced before, impalement.
My masked torturer gestured toward the waiting impalement post, “Rachel, the reason your naked tonight is to make it easier for you to struggle against the inevitable. Once the unyielding tip of the post starts to push upward against your cervix, you’ll do anything to gain a few brief moments of relief from the agonizing pressure. In my experience, most women manage to starve off the inevitable for about an hour. By then, the perspiration from their desperate exertions makes it impossible for them to grip the shaft effectively with their legs. Once that occurs the agonizing pressure against their cervix gradually starts to increase until the tip of the post finally destroys their cervix, allowing the tip of the post to proceed upward through their guts unimpeded.”
Gripping my shoulder, my torturer added, “Once the post begins sliding up through your guts, it’s critical that the advancing tip of the post stay centered within your body. If everything goes as planned the tip of the post should pass upward between your lungs and pierce the underside of your trachea, slide up through your throat and finally exit through your mouth.
Feeling that familiar sensation of delightful terror, “So, I’ll still be alive?”
“If everything goes as planned, yes you’ll still be alive. Of course, we’ll have to wait and see just how long you’re going to suffer before dying. If the post damaged one or both of your lungs, you’ll bleed out internally within a few minutes. Otherwise, it will all depend on how badly the post damaged your trachea. You could survive for hours perhaps even for longer than a day before you finally die.”
Terrified of the answer, I asked, “In the end, how do I die?”
“Each shallow breath you manage to take after you’re fully impaled ironically brings you that much closer to death. When the tip of the post breaks through the cartilage of your trachea, the cartilage rips leaving a gap around the impalement post’s shaft. This rip in your trachea allows a small amount of air to escape into your chest cavity with each breath you take. The smaller the rip the less air escapes. The larger the rip the more air escapes. As the air builds up within your chest cavity your breathing will gradually become more labored, until you eventually can no longer breathe and die by suffocation.”
Tuesday evening June 18, 2019, on the patio of Rachel’s private villa
“Turns out, my masked torturer was brutally correct concerning just about everything that transpired that night. I could see it in his eyes that he thoroughly enjoyed my high-pitched screams of pure agony as I struggled against the inevitable before the tip of the impalement post finally ruptured my cervix. The almost indescribable feel of that cold steel shaft slipping steadily upward through my guts as my body sank down onto the impalement post. The unexpected crunching sound as the post’s tip broke through into my trachea. The way I started to gag as I felt that cold steel post sliding upward through my throat. The revolting taste of blood and steel filling my mouth as the tip of that impalement post slipped upward out of my mouth.”
Of course, he did fail to mention a few details. The way the post’s steel shaft filled my throat making it almost impossible to breathe. And, the way the steady dull pain radiating along the part of the shaft buried inside me would explode into burning agony with even the slightest shift of my body, like when I needed to breathe. A gruesomely barbaric struggle that lasted well into the following morning, when after fifteen glorious hours of agonizing torture, I finally died of suffocation.”
“Personally, I’m already eagerly looking forward to whatever diabolic and tortuously obscene fate awaits me in the Resort’s dungeons tomorrow night...”
“Computer end recording and save journal entry as both video and searchable text.”